Dreams That Plague
by illmtl
Summary: DMHP eventually. The beginning of what might end up an epic fic. Draco suffers from dreams, and it's driving him mad. PG13 for slight slashiness (at the moment), imagery (I'm not sure what category the imagery falls under). Please R&R. Also I'd like to ad


Disclaimer: I will add to this as I go. I do not own Harry Potter - the Rights that is, of course I have copies of the books - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Haunted by Evanescence or Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park or Weapon by Matthew Goode, lyrics used here without permission. OK I used a line from a U2 song as well. I'll let people work that one out, telling which song it is would just give it away.

A/N: _Italics_ indicate a dream sequence, which is kinda standard. As well as "" standing for speech it also counts for anything written down, it'll be obvious which is which. I need to add Draco's inner voice, it'll speak with _italics,_ the differentiate from dream sequences. Also this follows from Draco's POV.

Summer Holidays

Summer holiday - the worst part of my year. At least Malfoy Manor has plenty of secret rooms, though I can't remain hidden for too long. That would make them search, searching could bring them here. I would rather they didn't know about this room. It is my solace, the one redeeming factor of the holidays. Here I can escape all. In here I keep my journal, and all my prized possessions. Here I hide from Him, only to face Him at night, alone in the dark. There is not much point in returning to what everyone else sees as my room. It's not like I sleep a lot. Insomnia. It became a part of my life long ago. Insomnia is the escape from the rest of my life. An escape from the memories that are played over and over again. An escape from the dark-haired boy that haunts me. Ever since I met him, all those years ago, he has visited me regularly. Mingling with my most hated memories, becoming a source of pain. My 'friends' wonder that I do not sleep. But they aren't particularly good friends, I truly am alone. Those who call themselves my friends are not to be trusted, so I confide in no one.

For a long time I did not recognise the boy that haunts my dreams, but that mystery has been solved. My enemy, the wizarding world's hero. Harry Potter. Even the thought of him makes my skin crawl. Now the name is attached to the boy who haunts me. The real thing presents the same things. A source of fear.

For now I must live through the holidays, survive until I am seventeen. I know I will never be rid of Him. He has cut too deep. Sometimes, sitting in this room, I almost forget. I almost become the boy I should have been. The boy I would have been had I been someone else, free of Him. My greatest fear of all, above Him, is that I will start doing what He does. I will start to harm myself. Cutting into my flesh, as He does every night. Trying to cut the impurity from my skin. I am impure, that is what He says. He says this is because I do not like girls. Why should that matter so much? I haven't met my soul-mate. Yet that is another impurity, according to Him. Love is an illusion. Love is nothing. Malfoys do not love.

Sometimes that madness takes me. It tries to drive me into the arms of death. But I am not ready to die. I have nothing to live for, except for love. To know love before I die would make me complete. Once Love has brushed my face with her beautiful feathers, I will be content. He must never know of this though, the consequences would be devastating. I fear He would overstep the boundary of all that is bearable. The mental pain would destroy me, I know. How could I ever look upon Him as my father?

- - -

Here I shiver in my bed. Not because of cold, I could never be cold. The cold is within my body, numbing my insides, leaving my skin free. Free to feel His torments. Him. He is why I shiver. In the darkness I feel him coming closer. His fists, hard as steel. Worse still, His Wand in His fist.

The door creaks. A sliver of light enters my otherwise pitch-dark room. The time is come then. Time for this nightly ritual. If only I could tell Mother of it. She would put a stop to it. She has some degree of control over Him. But if I told her... what would come of it but more pain?

He's beside my bed now. I can hear His breathing.

"Up! Now!" Up He says and up I must get.

I stand up. He towers over me, one arm slowly rises. Before the signals begin to flow between His brain and His mouth, I know what He is going to say. Silence.

"Silencio." Barely more than a whisper, but the effect is not so. As His empty fist comes in contact with my nose, I hear the bones shatter inside my skull. No sound escapes my lips, though not for want of trying. In my mind I scream, my body goes through the motions of crying out. His next punch makes me double over, and He shoves me to the floor. His feet break ribs. All the while I shriek inwardly. But He has saved the best till last.

"Crucio." Pain. More pain. Instead of withdrawing from this, my mind embraces it. It's all He's ever given me. The torture seems to last an eon.

He is long gone by the time I return to myself. But some part of me has died. Some part of me always dies. It amazes me that there is anything left to die after all these years.

The physical pain is not what bothers me, nor the psychic pain that the Cruciatus curse involves. It is the fact that He is my father. I was told when I was three that was too old to cry. Only babies cry. I haven't cried since. No tears, not now or ever. Within my mind the barriers go up. They come down when He is here, but when He is here I am in too much pain to see what lies behind those walls. But in my few moments of sleep I am not so lucky.

I rise. There, on my bedside table, a potion. To heal my broken nose I expect. All my other injuries can heal naturally. He never wants it to show, never wants others to see His handiwork.

- - -

Slowly the days creep forward. Too slowly. My birthday is soon. It'll be my 17th birthday. That is if I live to be 17. By then I will be on the brink of death. I am certain that several of my ribs are broken, along with an assortment of other bones. My body, beneath my clothes, is a mass of bruising and cuts. It hurts just to exist. In my mind I relive every punch of His fist, every slash of His blade, every spell from His wand. Still it is hard to believe He is my father.

- - -

_The dark-haired boy approaches me, arms outstretched. This time new emotions arise in me, not the fear which I have grown accustomed to. I feel desire. Desire for touch. Desire to be loved. It is so overbearing, it could almost be called lust. I lust for... I don't know._

_The dark-haired boy stands before me, but he is not clear. He is out of focus. I realise this is because I am wearing his glasses. Strange. Without his glasses he looks much more handsome. He looks a lot more... mature._

"_They look cute on you," he says, gesturing with his hand. His hand lingers and cups my cheek, pulling me closer to him. The closer he gets, the more his breath ghosts upon my skin._

_He says nothing more, but with his eyes locked upon mine I can read volumes of emotion. Love, lust, anxiety and... fear. Irrational and wild. Fear follows him. Fear of what?_

_He brings his lips to mine. The dark-haired boy's lips are so soft upon mine. They flutter on my skin, so lightly it is hard to believe they are real. Soon they move from the comfortable position on my lips, where they fit so perfectly, to caress my face, my ears, my jaw, my neck..._

Agh! I sit up bolt upright in my bed. How could He have been right? The first dream, ever, where I actually fantasise about someone, and not only it the object male but it is Harry Potter. He is my enemy. Maybe I do deserve the treatment I receive from Him, after all my heart longs for that which is doubly wrong. I need time to think. I think I will go to my room early today, if I skip meals it just means I'll avoid my family all that much more. I am so confused.

- - -

Tomorrow is my birthday, my 17th birthday. I don't see how I can enjoy it. The numbness is eating me from within. I'm fighting a losing battle. I don't want to know what Father's gift for my birthday is. I can only expect that it would be worse that everything else He's given me through my life. I continue to wonder if I will ever return to see the glad sight that is Hogwarts Castle. It is so beautiful.

Hogwarts, where I spent the best times I've ever had. Where the dark-haired boy walks. Alone, just as I am. I still dream of the dark-haired boy. He is a boy of opposites. Sometimes he takes the place of Father. Other times he is the companion I have longed for, the lover I may never have. Yes, lover. It seems so strange, the conflict of emotion within me. With everybody else there is no conflict. No indecision on what to feel. He is the hunter, I the haunted.

"Watching me, wanting me,

I can feel you pull me down,

Saving me, Raping me,

Watching me."

The song lyrics rise unbidden. I wonder where I heard that song. To my ears, the sound of my voice singing these strange words is unfamiliar. That's no wonder, there's no one to talk to in this mansion, this home, this prison.

Alone in this secret room I stand. A prisoner in my own home. A victim, staring out the window and seeing nothing. This must end!

- - -

"Get up!" Barely more than a whisper. Habit brings me to comply.

"Your birthday is tomorrow. And the Dark Lord is very interested in meeting you. He wants to move in the same... circles as you." No! "Naturally you will obey. As you have always obeyed your father"

Nononononononononono! I don't want this. I don't know what I want, but fear was not in my plans for the future. Not that I have a future.

"Now, strip." My traitor body. It'll do anything He tells it. My mind rebels, fighting the mist. Fighting that numb indifference.

"Silencio." There's no hope. No one there for me. As this man, my Father, marks my body. The first slash of the blade across my chest cuts into my mind. The numbness is leaving? Anger. Anger clears my mind. Yet I do nothing. I have lingered here too long. His dominion can't be all encompassing, if only I could get away.

- - -

The last gift from Father. A message of blood. 'Mine'. Not anymore. The time has come to break free. I don't want to become the Dark Lord's plaything. That is what He meant. No matter that He may no longer beat me, I will always be His. His possession. He might get a little surprise. I'm not who He thought I was. I am not who I thought I was.

- - -

_Pain. The separation of mind and body._

_Watching, watching the writhing on the ground. Nothing to silence you this time. The screams cut deeper than any blade ever could._

_You exist outside yourself. The only escape from the pain._

_The pain, brought by the pale-haired one, so similar to you. You who writhes, twisting, trying to escape. The similarity is uncanny, the other could be your older brother, or father._

_You watch, infinitely distanced from your own horrific experience. You watch the other, see His shape blur, change, become closer to yourself in size. Become your opposite. Apparently another person, except for the cruel twist of the lips and the wand aimed at you it really could be another person._

_This one, like the other, you know of old. You watch Him as He watches your form. Your form, growing weaker. The agony just as great, but there is nothing left to fight with._

_Inexorably drawn back within your own flesh. Seeing the other through your true eyes. Eyes that begin to darken. Eyes inexplicably drawn to the green ones in the other. Green eyes, filled with the cruelty of another..._

I stir. The dreams plague my sleep, just as they always have. But now waking is no option. Just as in the dream, I have no energy left. Nothing to fight the drowsiness. Nothing to fight that which must surely come. Sleep's claws drag me back indefinitely....

_The blood pools around me. It drips from my arms, chest and legs. It flows from my veins. Dark red, so rich, so full of colour. It soaks into the white carpet around me._

_The feel of cold steel, within me, brings me back from the bloodlust. It hums as it moves within me. Releasing more of the crimson liquid._

_I don't feel pain, only the adrenalin. Some how this... abuse is a release from pain._

_I feel Him move behind me. I feel His hand glide across my blood-spattered back. He moves, moves to where He can see my face. See my blissfully vacant expression. My blood covers His hands, His clothing, His lips and sheathes the dagger. The cold steel a deadly cherry-red._

_I bring my own blood coated hand to His dark hair. Brushing it away from His face, leaving blood on His forehead. He brings His lips to mine. The taste of my blood mingling with the taste of Him. His tongue in my mouth. His tongue asserting His control. There can be only one master here._

_The taste of Him changes. I pull back and see the other before me. Covered in blood, just as the dark-haired one was. He raises a finger to his lips, licking off the blood. My blood. A cruel expression on his face. Raising the dagger, driving it at my heart._

_My hands pulling the dagger into my heart. The pain that had not bothered me arrives. I am alone. There is no one to help me. No one to pull the dagger out. I kill myself, screaming. I fall. A voice echoes out._

"_I don't know what's worth fighting for,_

_Or why I have to scream._

_I don't know why I instigate_

_And say what I don't mean._

_I don't know how I got this way,_

_I know it's not all right._

_So I'm breaking the habit,_

_I'm breaking the habit tonight."_

_Everything fades into nothingness..._

- - -

The world slowly becomes clear, finally I'm awake. NO! My seventeenth birthday. No. Never. Leave. Must leave. Pack.

That is what I must do, I must leave. Father will not come for me, won't come to bring me to the Dark Lord, 'til nightfall. Leave, and now. First I'll pack. Everything into my Hogwarts trunk, everything from my private room.

- - -

Hopefully I will never see this room again. Though it has been my solace... if only I could bring the room with me. The contents must suffice. Journal. Memories. All that I can't leave behind. All into my trunk, almost full now. All my possessions. It's quite sad that I can fit my entire life into a single trunk, and it's not even magically enhanced.

One last thing before I go. A letter to Mother. She needs to understand. She was kept in the dark, just as I died within it. Not seeing because I was hidden from her. She is all that I'll regret in leaving.

"Mother,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for leaving.

I'm sorry for not being strong enough. Had I been stronger things may have panned out differently, as it is though...

I'm sorry I can't give you a reason, just accept what I have done.

I'm sorry I can't tell you where I've gone, I don't know where I am now either.

I long ago passed the barrier defining reality... I have been lost within dreams for so long.

I'm sorry that I can't let you find me. Much as I want to be found... it is not for you to do.

I'm sorry that you couldn't help.

I'm sorry.

Your loving son

Draco"

Apparate or Floo? Apparate would be better I think. Time to get going, before I lose my nerve.

- - -

Maybe not the best place to go, but I'll only stay for a night. I need to get what I will need for Hogwarts, then I can disappear. Disappear into the framework. Disappear into nothingness.

In the middle of the day the Leaky Cauldron is so busy, I guess I never noticed till now just how lively it really is. Considering the fact that every other time I've been here I have been at the mercy of my... my... Father, I'm not surprised that I didn't notice much.

How does one acquire a room? Innkeeper. What's his name? Tom. Where is he? Umm... There, in the corner, serving that woman. Here he comes, now lean casually on the bar.

"Excuse me?" He turns at me voice.

"Yes, young sir. How may I be helpin' ye?"

"A... a bottle of Butterbeer and a room for one, please." He pulls a Butterbeer from beneath the bar, opens it and hands it to me. Mmmm. It is so nice.

"What name will the room be under?" Oh Merlin! Ummm... false name? Let's keep it simple. Smith, that's a good name. Drake Smith. Good enough.

"Smith." Am I just paranoid or did I see something flicker in his eyes at the name? I think I'll stick to paranoid.

"As ye wish, young sir. I'll be about gettin' room twelve ready for ye. Here be yer key." I accept it. Maybe I should do my shopping today rather than tomorrow. Then I can leave first thing, yes sounds good. Shopping, by myself, such a weird concept. My bags have already been moved to my room, good.

- - -

Money, as much as I can carry. The last I'll probably ever obtain from the Malfoy vault. Where to go first? Flourish and Blotts...

I am beginning to feel claustrophobic in this crowd. My bags full of supplies for school. School. Can't wait to get back. The only place He can't get me. The only place I ever truly felt safe.

What was that? Up ahead, a smudge of dark hair. It's him. Yes. Glasses, scar, smile. Shaking. No I can't go to pieces here. Alley. Now.

People, people in the street pressing in.

_Arm on my arm._

"_It's just me." A whisper against my neck._

Bags falling to the floor. Collapsing, falling to the ground.

"_Let me help you with that." Pain, biting into my neck._

Smallness. Becoming as small as possible.

"Help me." A whisper from lips disconnected from the brain they serve.

_Lips, soft as feathers, caressing mine. Loving, embracing, enhancing._

"_Here by my side, an angel." He sings into my neck._

"_Here by my side, the devil." I reply._

"_Never turn your back on me." He sings, staring into my eyes._

"_Never turn your back on me again. Here by my side, it's Heaven." Singing together. His tenor meshing with my alto._

Alone. Alone and cold. Must escape. Escape the dreams.

"_Now you must die." His lips, no longer soft, are cruelly set. The dark-haired one is becoming the other._

No!

- - -

I'm not sure how long it took me to free myself from the visions. But here in room twelve in the Leaky Cauldron, I don't feel safe. I want to be safe. I have all I need from Diagon Alley, I can leave. Safe... safe... School? No, it's holidays. No school. Safe... Snape? Maybe, he's always been kind. Protection? He has Dumbledore to help him. Is it enough? Maybe not... but where else could I go?

_To him._

"No!" He would not welcome me. He is no friend. And I don't know where he is. It'll have to be Snape's.

_That one could take you to him. You will come to him sooner or later. Soonest is best. The pull will only become greater. The dreams will only get worse. The darkness will claim you as it has before, but soon it will grow reluctant to release you to the light. The darkness will claim you forever, and that will be the end of it. The Dragon of the Old House will fall and never be seen again..._

"Shut Up!" I cover my head with a pillow, trying to block out that voice. The voice that sounds of frozen icefields, barren wastelands; it freezes my heart to hear it. It reminds me of Him. Him in the world I am escaping

- - -

A/N: Please give me some feedback. This is to be a joint fic with a friend of mine, and will eventually be moved somewhere else but here is the beginning of it. Flames welcome, though not necessarily appreciated. I also apologise for any errors towards the end, I haven't really betad it yet. Also I will upload over this chapter until I get to the spot my friend and I want - so it may come in tiny snippets, but it is better than my friend's progress. The problem is that we're going to sit our School Cert. soon and... well we're supposed to be studying.

_illmtl_


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